The Jackal's Kiss
by Holly Brown
Summary: A girl with no memory is suddenly abducted into a world where she has to decide what is real and what is a lie. It is there that she will discover who she really is and who she can trust...
1. Chapter 1: Mal de Ojo

**Chapter One: Mal de Ojo**

"Ouch! Damn it…"I hissed as blood smeared across the receipt I had just finished. Angrily I sucked on the paper cut and tore the worthless scrap out of the notebook to start again. It was three a.m., and just past my lunch break, but I was still ready to go home and crawl beneath my sheets. Working as a night secretary had not been one of my greatest ideas—not that I had many of those.

The door screeched open as I was putting in the last seal number. Dale poked his head in, searching past the piles of folders and empty coffee cups to find me. He looked as annoyed as I felt.

"Isn't that paperwork done yet, Marie?" he asked, rather snarkily.

"Yeah, yeah, here," I flipped the clean copies on top of the nearest pile before I began on next weeks shipments. I loved Friday nights…well, I guess it was Saturday morning now…

The door closed with a sharp thud. No one was cheery on the night shift, not since the coffee machine had broken and Boss wouldn't pay to get a new one.

I shoved stained napkins and old post-its to one side, growling a little under my breath. There was the keyboard!

The day secretary and I had a little war going on. Three times I had cleaned this freaking desk to military neatness, and the next night I came in, it was a disaster. Now, I refused to move a single paper clip. I think he was pissed because I got paid a teensy bit more, but hey, if he wanted the big bucks, he should suck it up and work the graveyard shift.

_Rap, rap!_

I looked up and saw a dark shape behind the bent blinds, brown with dirt and grease.

"C'mon," I called, waving.

The door opened slightly, and I recognized one of the newbies, Mark…something. He was young, with long, silky caramel hair. I wanted it for myself.

"What's up?" I asked, glancing momentarily from the computer screen, where the program was booting up and asking for my password.

"I'm here for my check." He had a pleasant voice. It probably would be even nicer if the tone weren't so short. He looked away and I saw his jaw clench. What was his problem?

I sighed and scooted away from the desk. The keys jangled as I unhooked them from my belt and shoved one into the locked cabinet.

"Name?" I could be short, too.

"Zachary Tilbane."

Huh, I guess his name wasn't Mark. I flipped through the white envelopes as he stood there, and I could literally feel the agitation shooting from him, just like I could feel his eyes glaring on my neck.

"_Could you be any slower?_"

I flipped around, his check in hand, "Ex-cuse me?"

His eyebrows disappeared into his hat, "I didn't say anything."

"Sure you didn't," my scowl was probably not pretty. I was really sick and tired of the games these guys liked to play. "Sign your name off on the clipboard, then you can get out."

He locked his eyes onto mine, and the tension was suddenly strung tight between us. I felt like I was locked into a battle of wills with this guy who was probably a foot taller and a fourth grader heavier in muscle. My insides cringed, and I suddenly wanted to sink into the chair and apologize for the command. My knees twitched, ready to melt.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my hands into fists instead. I wasn't some damn dog and this was _my_ office until six.

"Is there a problem Mr. Tilbane?" I said, careful to keep my voice steady and authoritative.

He actually snarled at me. "Who the hell are you? You don't belong here. Leave."

Shock made my mind go blank. The door was already slamming before my brain rebooted.

"What the hell?" I asked myself. He didn't like me because…I was a woman, maybe? Jeez, what a loser. For a minute I felt like I was stuck inside some daytime drama, or teenage novel.

"Asshole," I muttered before sitting down in front of the glaring screen again. The online database had timed out, now I had to go through the whole process again. Yes, I blamed Mr. Tilbane to the bottom of my soul.

It took forever for six a.m. to arrive, and by six o' three I was already locking the office. It would not be opened again until the day shift started at nine. And tomorrow was Sunday, so it was going to be my day off. With a sigh, a little of the heavy weight that had been residing in my chest let go. I smiled to myself as I crossed the parking lot, illuminated with the glowing orange light of the street lamps.

The salty brine of ocean had never smelled so good as that moment. When I got home, I would crawl into my bed, which would be softer than a dream.

" 'Night, Marie," someone called, and I waved cheerily before crawling into the rusted tin can that was my car. The navy blue paint was chipped and dull with age, all the fenders were bent beyond repair by the previous owner, and three of the hubcaps were missing. Inside didn't look any better, and there was a mysterious odor that I was not brave enough to identify—but it ran, and it was mine, and that was good enough for me.

It took twenty-six minutes to get back to my itsy-bitsy apartment. It was three rooms: a closet sized bedroom that barely fit a double-bed and a dresser, the teensiest bathroom in the world that could hold a toilet, sink, and shower/bath combo, and then there was the living/dining/kitchen area that was hardly bigger than the bedroom. I was proud as hell of it. I set my keys on the little breakfast table and stripped as I headed for the bedroom. Somehow, I managed to find an oversized T-Shirt in the pre-dawn gloom.

I started to crawl under the covers, but had to stop to open the curtains and blinds. It let in the wonderful pink and gold sky. I could not sleep without the light, because I was absolutely petrified of the dark. I didn't even know why, I only knew that since I woke up in the hospital, absolute darkness sent me into a panic attack. I could not remember my real name, or where I was born, but I know I am terrified of the dark.

Something bad must have happened in there.

I touched the pink scars on my arms. They were slightly raised, but smooth, like knife-cuts, as if someone had knives for fingers and grabbed my arms. They ran down my belly, too, and on my thighs, though, those didn't cover, fine, spidery white scars like my arms. I curled up tighter in the center of the bed and closed my eyes tight. They told me I wasn't raped, that the cuts and bruises would heal in time and that even my memory would return with therapy. I was really rare, they said, while writing on their clipboards. Amnesia like mine wasn't as common as Hollywood made it seem.

Functional amnesia, they called it. Brought on by traumatic stress. Give it time, they said. I remembered nothing. I clenched my fingers around my scarred arms. I don't think I wanted to, either.

Even though I was drop-dead tired, it took awhile for sleep to claim me. It was always a struggle, I think because I had nightmares. I never remembered them though; I only woke up sweaty with a thudding heart and the bed torn to pieces. But…I was so tired…

The phone was ringing.

I sat up, shivering as my damp skin met the cool air. My eyes stung from the sunlight glaring through the window. It stopped and I sighed, flopping back on my scattered pillows.

_Brrrrnng! Brrrrnng!_

I pulled myself up again, a little annoyed. What was the emergency? I crawled across the haphazard sheets to the foot of the bed and tripped to the door. The phone was shrieking indignantly as I picked it up and muttered a grumbly, "Hello?"

"Marie?" It was the day secretary, and he sounded just as grumbly.

"What is it Ned?" I asked, releasing my irritation with a breath.

"Boss wanted me to tell you to come in tonight, lookin' nice. The owner's comin' for a look-see," he sounded bored and it made my insides boil.

"And this couldn't have waited a few more hours?" I was agonizing over the fact that I knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Just how I needed to meet the big boss, with the eyes of a crack whore.

"Sorry, were you asleep?" I could hear the wicked grin in his voice.

"Fuck off, Ned," I growled before hanging up.

I looked at my cheap yard sale clock, ten twenty-seven. Huh, four hours of sleep. Damn, what a dick.

I stumbled over to the bathroom and turned the water on as hot as it would go. It was turning into fall and I did not like a big heating bill, so a good hot shower sounded like heaven. I stayed in there longer than I should have, but the hot spray felt so good against my back, muscles tensed from stress and bad sleep. I growled to myself, disappointment hanging heavy in my chest. It really wasn't fair. It was supposed to be my day off. I only got one a week, and well…this just sucked.

Outside the shower, I brushed my teeth and slapped some lotion on my face and hands. For a moment my eyes met my reflection, and I stared for just a minute. The person looking back at me seemed impossibly young—about twelve years old. The doctors told me I was in my late teens to early twenties. Sure. How old was I?

I leaned in closer over the sink and wiped away some of the vapor. I saw dark hair that turned into an unmanageable mess if I left it for too long. My eyebrows were almost black and arched heavily across my brow bone. Underneath my eyes looked large and lost. Little girl eyes. No wonder they thought I didn't belong there. I stepped back, no longer wanting to look. The Boss had to pay me under the table because I didn't have a social security number or any kind of identification. It was the only job I could find, being like I was.

That meant that I would go into tonight and work without complaint. I didn't have any choice if I wanted to continue living with a roof over my head and food on the table.

"O-kay, now that that's out of the way," I muttered before throwing some clothes on.

For two minutes I stared inside my refrigerator, before I decided that I didn't want anything to eat. With a sigh, I looked at my ticking rooster. It was only eleven, what was I going to do for ten more hours? I yawned, eyes roving around the room, past the half-wall room divider into the living/dining room—not that it housed much else than a couch and a TV. On the coffee table sat my little stack of bills, separated by a bare inch from the general clutter. Ah. That was it. Boring chores.

So for two hours I balanced my finances in the red notebook I kept. Of course, all the cash went to the landlord, and he in turn paid the companies. He only charged me a ten percent service fee. Highway robbery, I swear. It was hard to live without an identity.

After the bills, I moved on to my laundry. I shoved everything on the floor and hamper into my mesh bag and headed downstairs. The hallways in my building were a dingy brown, from floors to ceiling. It made me wonder if it was the natural color or the build up of years of stains. The smell was a nostril burning mix of burned food, mothballs, and tobacco.

I huffed my way to the stairwell door, the over-stuffed mesh bag growing heavier with every step. I struggled with the greasy handle, and it squealed as I turned it one way and then the other. Finally, the catch released, and the door pulled heavily open with a tired groan.

The severe lack of windows, and poor, flickering lighting made me pause at the top of the shadowy stairs. I hated the stairs. I always felt like I was walking into a dark pit. The ceiling light flashed softly, taunting me with images of the cold concrete and bare walls. I blew out a breath and tried to ignore the tightening along my spine, as if I had eyes on my back.

"There is nothing there," I told myself sternly, but it sort of lost the effect when my voice grew weaker with every word. I wasn't sure what it was about the dark that terrified me so much, but as I descended the steps, my skin felt like it could feel the shadows pressing on me, like translucent hands brushing against me. The light buzzed ominously and I halted, staring at it like it was the last hope in a ruined world.

"No, no, please," I whispered just before it flashed blue, and died.

Complete black fell over me like a heavy blanket, and I could not move. My back tightened more, and the feeling spread to my chest, squeezing my heart and lungs until my breath came in short gasps. Tickling fingers seemed to dance over my scalp, teasing the roots of my hair, and I bit back a scream.

That was the first rule of the dark: never scream. Don't make a sound.

My heart was pounding so hard that the blood whooshed in my ears. It sounded like a voice, whispering, but I couldn't make out the words. I shut my eyes tight. _It's not real. It's not real._ I took a slow step down, my whole body trembling as if I had a fever.

And it _was _cold in the stairway. Freezing. I felt like I should have been able to see my breath, if there had been a light. _Oh, God. I wanted a light._

The whispering in my ears grew louder, like a voiceless scream, and the chills that swept over my skin were so strong that they felt like the hard grip of bony fingers. I ground my teeth together and took another step down as hot tears rolled down my face.

There was one more flight of stairs around the corner, just one. Ten steps.

It was too long.

When my foot hit the landing, a whoosh of cold air swept up from the floor, freezing the already icy sweat on my spine.

"_Don't GOOO!"_ the whisper seemed to plead, and the sound echoed in my ear. My breath hissed out in a half-scream, before I bit my lips together. The taste of salty, metallic blood filled my mouth. I stood and shivered, trying not to make a sound as my guts squirmed like snakes inside my belly.

Ten steps.

I moved my foot hesitantly, until it reached the edge of the top step.

"_NOOO!_" the voice screamed and the temperature plummeted. My hair whipped around my face and I stumbled down the steps, panicked. The skin between my shoulder blades prickled and pulled and…_slam!_

A heavy weight catapulted into my back and knocked me down the last half of the stairs. I landed in the filmy pool of light coming in from the door's thin rectangle window. It wasn't enough. I gasped, as the stairwell filled with a roar, like the building momentum of a train. The walls seemed to shake as something massive impacted the walls. The mortar crumbled and flew in the wind tunnel ripping through the black.

I screamed and fumbled with the door, but the knob wouldn't twist under my frantic hands. The angry blows moved closer to me, and I felt the heat pass me, like an electrical bolt. The glass shattered above and darted to the floor like thousands of tiny knives.

The cold intensified until my skin felt like it was going to crack and fall off.

"_You haaave to staaaay_," the wind howled and I screamed again. _Open! Open! OPEN!_

I fell forward as the door suddenly gave way, and I landed hard on the concrete.

"_Dios mio!_ What are you doing down there, _niña?_" I looked up and saw Mrs. Caballero standing behind the door, one hand to her chest as if she had had a fright. "Did you fall?"

"I—" I looked behind me at the stairwell. It was quiet, and perfectly normal looking. I slumped on top of my dirty laundry, which had probably saved me from a broken neck, but my knee hadn't faired so well. It had landed on the doorstop, and as I realized I was hurt, pain started shooting up and down my leg. "Yeah, I fell."

"Emanuel!" she called, half turning. "Come help, Marie fell down the stairs!"

I felt my face turning red. "It's okay, Mrs. Caballero, really, I'll be all right…"

She shook her head before picking me up and dusting me off, as if I was a small child. "I heard you scream. You scared me, _niña!_ I thought you were being murdered!" I laughed quietly with her, but it felt closer to the truth than anything else.

I saw her frown, and she turned to the slightly open door of her apartment. "Emanuel! Leave your computer games, and come help. _Rapido!_"

"Aww, Mama!"

"It's really all right—"

"_Emanuel! —_" She started yelling in rapid Spanish which I wasn't fluent enough to recognize. Almost immediately a door slammed from within the apartment and I heard heavy thudding footsteps.

"I don't want to be a bother—"

"You are no bother, Marie," Mrs. Caballero said, patting my hand. "It is good to help your neighbors."

I had to agree when I took my first step and yelped with pain. Geez, had my knee gotten bigger since I looked at it?

"Oh _dios mio_, look what you have done to yourself, _niña_. Come on…ah, Emanuel, finally. Help Marie into the kitchen, I'll make a remedy for her."

Emanuel was standing in the door staring at me. His eyes were wide, as if I had grown a second head…or didn't have one. Did he look pale?

"Uh—" I began, but she had already scooped up my laundry bag, and Emanuel was putting my arm over his shoulder so I could lean on him as I walked. It was awkward because he was about six inches taller than me and his face was completely set.

It was awkward to say the least, and I didn't know if I should thank him or apologize. He didn't look like he wanted to say anything, so I limped along in silence. The weight of it hung heavily in the air—or so it seemed to me. I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Sorry I had to interrupt your game," I said as we worked our way around the small table in the short entryway.

"Huh?"

"Were you at an important level in your game?"

"Oh. No, no," he shook his head as he said it, and we turned around the wall and were abruptly in the kitchen. I saw that Mrs. Caballero had painted the walls of her main room a deep orangey-yellow. It made the room seem even cozier, but it was warm and inviting. She had light curtains in front of her large window, where two small green couches sat. Scattered pillows created a rainbow effect on top of them.

"At the table, _por favor_," Mrs. Caballero said as she put a teapot on one of the burners.

I sat gratefully in the basket seat, and the pain in my knee receded to a dull throb. Emanuel backed away sharply, as if I had some sort of disease.

"Thanks," I said anyway, with a sigh, and leaned back.

"Like I said, _niña_, you are welcome," Mrs. Caballero smiled as she pulled a parchment wrapped packet down from the cupboard. At the top I could see several similar ones, as well as old jelly and pickle jars filled with weeds. Was she making tea?

"I should probably be okay with some ice," I said, but my voice hung uncertainly in the air. My knee was swelling pretty badly and I was beginning to wonder if I had fractured it. Would I have to go to the emergency room? Well, it didn't matter I couldn't afford it. No health insurance.

Mrs. Caballero laughed. "Well, it would probably be a good start. Emanuel, would you, please?"

Emanuel moved away from the wall he had been leaning against and disappeared into the bedroom. Mrs. Caballero watched him, her brows furrowing and a frown thinning her lips. It was an expression that transformed her entire face from the kind mask I had always seen.

"Something wrong?"

"Hmm?" It was a moment before her eyes focused, and at once a smile was in place again. "It's nothing but a mother's worry. I've never seen him so quiet," she said, and laughed off the awkward moment.

"Oh."

Emanuel came back at that moment, a hand towel in his fist. I watched as mother and son almost danced around the miniscule kitchen, one ducking as the other reached into a tall cupboard, moving here or there to be out of the other's way. I stayed silent and uncomfortable in my chair, like I had intruded on these people's lives and had no right to be there. The look in Emanuel's eyes as he turned back told me that I was right to feel that way. He put the bag of ice wrapped in the towel on my leg, careful not to touch skin. Or maybe I was just being paranoid.

A strong, odor filled the room and I saw that Mrs. Caballero was pouring hot water over the powder from the packet.

"What is that?" I asked, shifting a little in my seat, trying to get a better look.

"A natural remedy, my mother taught me, and her mother taught her."

"Umm—"

The older woman looked over her shoulder and noted my face. "Don't worry, _niña_. It is mostly flaxseed, to reduce the swelling." She turned back to the mixture she was stirring with a spoon into a paste. She began to sing, crooning to the little glass bowl. I opened my mouth to say something, but it was Emanuel who spoke.

"My mother is a _curadera_, a healer. She is singing to the good spirits, asking them to take the dark spirits away from you," he watched as my heart skipped a beat.

"Dark spirits?" I breathed.

"Yes," he paused, and his chin rose. "The ones that cause the pain and swelling in your knee."

"Oh," a relieved laugh escaped me. A frown creased his smooth brow.

"It is not something to be laughed at. My mother has healed many people, though she lost her sight—"

"_Emanuel_." Just one word. But I felt a small shiver on my spine, and I dared to glance back at the speaker. Mrs. Caballero had stopped singing, and she stood with both hands on top of the stove, her head down, and rigid back to us.

The boy's face darkened, I could almost see the anger seeping into the air around him, like a black cloud. "It is true," he hissed. "You have lost your sight. You can't even see what you've invited in to your own house!"

"I may have lost my sight, _niño_, but I still have my senses. Enough to know _what I have invited in my own home_," her voice grew as dark as Emanuel's face, and suddenly I felt a great need to retreat to the safety of the hallway. But I would have to pass between them to exit the apartment, something I had absolutely no desire to do.

"Do you really? Do you see that thing crawling over her, feeding like a parasite?"

Mrs. Caballero laughed. "Is that what you see, little Emanuel?"

I opened my mouth to interrupt, thought better of it, and stayed quiet.

"Both of your eyes lie to you, just like she lies to you. But you don't have _the training_ to understand yet, do you? _¿Comprende?_" her eyes glinted as she spoke in rapid Spanish. Her spit flew as her tongue wrapped around the angry words and Emanuel's face paled. Finally, his eyes slid over to me. I sat, clutching the chair, and looking between them, clueless.

"_Si_," Mrs. Caballero finally slowed down, and her entire body slumped, as if caving in on its self. She finally turned to me. "You must understand, Marie. I have been watching you ever since you came to our building. I saw it then, and I knew, when I felt your terror as you slept. Emanuel felt it, too, and thinks your are plagued by demons," she shook her head. "But it is not that. You plague yourself, don't you?" Her voice was a whisper.

"Mrs. Caballero?" I asked, feeling very uncomfortable.

"You are cursed, _niña_."

I didn't breath. I didn't blink. I'm not even sure my heart was beating. It felt that way, tormented by horrible dreams that I couldn't remember, and terrified of the things that lived in the dark. The things that only I could see.

Mrs. Caballero looked straight at me at that moment, her eyes boring into mine as if she could carve the curse out. "You bear the _Mal de Ojo_. The Evil Eye."

"What's that?" I whispered.

"You see things, Marie? Things that you believe are not real. You have, ever since you were a child?" Mrs. Caballero questioned, kneeling in front of me.

"I—I wouldn't know. I can't remember anything before I came here…from the hospital…" I trailed off as her fingers brushed my forehead, and her eyes closed. She squeezed them shut, tight, her face twisted in concentration. And I felt something inside my head, tickling like little bugs underneath my skull. I hissed out a breath. "Stop…" Her brow furrowed deeper.

"There is something there…black and twisted," I shuddered and moaned as the bugs became fingers, too big. Pain seared through my head, but she kept going, probing deeper. "It sticks like spider silk…what are you hiding?...there—" she gasped as I screamed, the pain bursting through me as if she would split my brain in half.

"_Mama!_" Emanuel cried and raced forward, but Mrs. Caballero's other hand grabbed my arm, her fingers dug like claws into my flesh. She began to rant, screaming.

The boy pried her off as I scuttled back, the chair fell to the floor with me in it, but I was far better off than Mrs. Caballero, who was rolling on the floor in a fit as Emanuel tried to restrain her. I crawled forward hesitantly.

"_No!_ Don't come near her!" I sat back, eyes wide as the older woman twitched, her dark hair flying on the white linoleum. Blood dripped from her eyes and mouth. She must have bit her tongue. It created red stars on the clean white and mixed with the boy's tears.

After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Caballero finally laid still, her breathing heavy and her eyes closed. It was only then that Emanuel looked at me, and there was hatred in his face. It was blind and I could feel it pouring over me like boiling oil.

"You get out of here, _diabla_," he hissed, and his eyes looked pure black from where he leaned over his mother. I felt pain stab through my chest, like a knife. "_Alma mala_, _¡dejame! _LEAVE!"

I scuttled back like a crab, eyes wide. The lights flickered and went out, no sunlight came through the windows. The air became thick and heavy, hard to breathe. I wanted nothing else but to leave that place.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, but I didn't really know what I was apologizing for.

"_GET OUT!_ _DEMONICA!_"

I grabbed my laundry before I rushed out the door.

As the door slammed behind me, I immediately felt better. The cool air kissed my hot neck and cheeks, and my knees gave way. For a minute I sat there, letting the adrenaline pulse through me. For a long time there was only silence, and then came the soft murmur of voices and it was as if a spell was lifted. Emanuel spoke, and Mrs. Caballero answered him back. A great weight I hadn't known I had been carrying, lifted.

I stood, my laundry bag hanging from one hand. My head was pounding. If I was trapped in some strange nightmare, I wanted to wake up… if not…

I swallowed hard and tried not to see the shadows moving in the corner of my eyes. I rubbed my face, ready to scratch out the traitorous things, but then I would be trapped, sightless, in my own head. That was scarier to me than any kind of monster. With miserable resignation I walked into the sunlight and sighed. I could almost feel my skin preening towards the little warmth—towards the safety. There were no shadows in the sunlight.

14


	2. Chapter 2: Abduction

**Chapter Two: Abduction**

It was almost five before I saw my apartment again. I had passed by the Caballero's closed door, which stood dark and formidable. It was too easy pass by without a second glance. The idea of Emanuel's enraged face was intimidating, and what had happened to Mrs. Caballero? It couldn't really have been my fault…could it? I closed my eyes and pushed those thoughts away. How did I know what was real? None of what had happened today seemed possible.

I paused at the stairwell door, but opened it fast, like ripping off a band-aid. There was nothing but the orange glow and the faint smell of incense. I didn't even bother to hold my breath; I just raced up the steps, the laundry bag was full of clean clothes this time, banging against my legs. I fell twice, but kept going, ready for the comfort of my own home. When I reached the top, someone was sitting outside of my door.

"What are you doing?"

The figure turned slightly, and I tensed. It was Emanuel, pale faced and narrow eyed. He stood up and faced me.

"My mother made me come here, for you," he said after a minute. The words sounded forced.

"Listen, I don't know what you guys are into, but I don't want any," I said, waving my hands. "I don' know what happened today—" Emanuel opened his mouth as if to interrupt me, but I continued on, not giving him the chance to explain. "_And_ I don't want to know. So I'll go my way, and you'll go yours."

"It's not that simple," he shook his head as he said it, denying the words outright.

"It is. Look, I'm really sorry about your mom, but I didn't have anything to do with her seizure. People can't do that kind of thing, okay?"

"How can you deny it?" he asked, angrily glaring at me. "Don't you have more than enough proof?"

I forced a laugh. "Proof of what? You're just overly superstitious."

"What about your dreams—no, nightmares? We hear you scream sometimes, your apartment is right above ours."

"Every one has those," I shrugged, wanting him to move, for this conversation to be over.

"Not every day."

I got angry. At them for listening to me sleeping, knowing things that I couldn't remember, and at myself for wanting believe there was a reason for my fear. But there wasn't. I had an overactive imagination. That was it. Problem solved.

"You want to know why I scream? Well, so do I. I can't remember my dreams or my own freaking name. And I _don't_ believe in curses or evil eyes—so I want you to leave me alone!" I blinked and he stayed motionless. Nothing in his face had changed during my outburst.

For some reason, Emanuel had an impossible sense of age. As if he had seen a thousand years of suffering and I was just another mark on the wall.

"You are stupid," he finally said. "Denying it will only make it worse." He came toward me, and I braced myself for…something. Emanuel thrust a bag into my hands. "My mother made this for you. Heat the paste up and put it on our knee. It will take the swelling down. And…wear the anise, the dried flower. It will keep evil from you."

He looked at me for another minute, as if he could burn the instructions into my brain and force me to obey. Abruptly, he turned away and disappeared down the stairs.

_Right, another step up on the weird scale,_ but even though I was thinking that, a little stab of worry sat in my chest. Ghosts, Mexican witch doctors, and curses, oh my! I shook my head. I had to be unbalanced if I thought any of that was real.

Inside my apartment, I dropped the brown bag Emanuel had handed me on the table and tossed the laundry into the bedroom. For the first time that day, I realized I was hungry.

After I ate dinner, I had nothing to do for an hour. Dutifully, I made myself put away the clothes I had just washed and pulled out what I would wear to work. Then, I headed back into the main room.

My little couch sank with a sigh as I sat down casually flipped through the channels. There were only three. I settled for the news, because it had the least amount of static. The anchorman was a handsome-enough kind of guy, but his hair was just a little too-perfect. _Nobody light a match._ I was laughing at my own joke when he said, "And in a few minutes, the follow-up to that grisly murder down at the bay."

I leaned forward as they ran through the weather and a story about a cat that survived a four-story fall. Impatiently, I waited, ready for more news on the body that had been found a few weeks earlier, not too far from my work. Of course, it had been found on the dayshift, and I hadn't actually seen it. Ned had gone down and gawked with the others behind the yellow police tape. He had recorded the story because they had interviewed him. He only said two sentences, but he acted like he was starring in a Hollywood box office hit.

"Hello, and thank you for watching the News at Six, with…"I sat a little straighter and turned the volume up. "Tonight's top story is the gruesome murder of an unknown victim. It was found late Saturday morning on October 3rd, where News Channel 4 had the exclusive. Tonight, new leads have been released in what had been a closed case. Reporting to you from…"

New leads? Murder? The last time the news had reported, a dog had mauled the man. Nobody had cared much because he had been a vagrant. I shook my head in confusion as a second reporter appeared on an inset screen.

"This is the dismal scene where the victim, later identified as John Harding, was brutally ripped apart, and Adam, and I have to say, it's not hard to imagine why no one could hear him scream. There is nothing but water and swamp in this area. About half a mile away you can find a gas station and a few warehouses, but here, there is nothing—"

"So Angela, we can see that there is a lot of activity behind you. Why are the police re-opening the case?" the anchorman asked, interrupting the feed.

"I've just learned from an inside source that the body was exhumed from the grave after an anonymous tip. It seems that besides the numerous canine bite marks, but there were also other markings, as well, some even made by human fingernails. This new information turns this tragic scene into something even more horrific. Adam…"

"Thank you, Angela…"

What that was it? No suspects? I turned the television off and glanced outside at the gathering dark. I had been so close to a murder scene—a disgusting, grisly murder scene that looked like something from a horror movie.

_Don't think about it!_ my fear cried in a small voice. Okay. I'd just get ready.

As I turned towards the bedroom, my eyes caught on the brown bag, sitting so innocently on my breakfast table.

"I should just throw it away," I said to myself. I walked over, curiosity peeking from behind my pride. Maybe just a quick look.

I opened the top, and a strong earthy smell wafted up. I had to turn away with a sneeze. I pulled out a zip-lock bag filled with the same paste Mrs. Caballero had been making earlier. _This_ was supposed to help my knee? I glanced down, and pulled up the leg of my cut-offs. It was still swollen, and turning an ugly shade of purple. Gross. Still, the stuff in the bag looked even more disgusting. There was only one other thing, a small cloth bag that smelled like weeds. It made me sneeze over and over again. Everything went in the trashcan below the sink.

In the bathroom I washed my face again, put on lotion, and then pulled down the make-up case. It was only the samples that my next-door-neighbor, Ms. What's-her-face passed off on everyone, but I didn't pass-up free stuff. Most of the time.

I never bothered with foundation because I was so pale, anything looked fake, and I didn't have that many blemishes to worry about. Just a little eye shadow, and liner…yes, I liked it. The faintly purple shadow made my emphasized my pale blue eyes and the smoky liner really made them pop. Then just a touch of lip-gloss, tinted rose. I smiled at my reflection.

"Hello, nice to meet you Mr.—Mr. …" _oh shit!_ I didn't even know the boss's name! Maybe I could overhear it, or ask before he got there. My heart was hammering at the thought of being unprepared. My presence was only tolerated because I did a good job…but if I didn't know his name…

_No, hold it. You're only the night secretary. Why would he want to meet you?_ … But why pull me in on my day off if he did not want to meet me?

I plugged in the curling iron with a frantic motion and flew to put on the black pantsuit I had pulled out. I'd gotten it at the Good Will with the tags still on it. The pants were a little long, but when I put on my best heels, they draped gracefully down my legs, just brushing the carpet. The blouse was a frosty blue; the pattern reminded me of ice trailing across a window on a cold day. Then the jacket—the front was a little roomy. It had been made for someone with a bigger bust than my childish frame…but hey, beggars (literally) cannot be choosers.

When I rushed back into the bathroom, it was to hastily wrap a few simple curls into my tresses and then I was rushing out the door. As my stiletto hit the first un-carpeted step, my knee gave a sharp pain-filled cry, and I nearly stumbled. I cursed under my breath, but there was no time now, I'd just have to grin and bear it.

I passed down the hall; the stairs and lobby so fast that I did not have time to be scared, even though the night was closing in like a fist. Normally, I was into work before the sun had set and out well after it had risen. But, the winter months were coming and I supposed I would have to gather what little courage I had…and speed like a demon. I took a deep breath, and was glad for the full moon, which was almost bright enough to read by. It illuminated my way to the car so that my heart was only pounding slightly before I started the engine.

The drive was uneventful, even though my road-rage got full exercise. Some people just did not deserve to drive. If you were going to go fifteen-miles per hour in a forty-five zone, take the goddamn bus.

When I pulled into the gravel parking lot, I had five minutes before I was supposed to be meeting the chief. I clambered out very ungracefully and ran-walked up to the side door.

"Late, Marie?" Ned smiled as he puffed casually on his cigarette. Its end glowed brightly in the dark, illuminating his broad, toad-like face. His pores reflected oily and I felt a nostril twitch in disgust.

"What are you so happy about?" I said, pausing with my hand on the doorknob. Ned only grinned and took another deep drag as he watched me. Something squirmed in the pit of my stomach. It was the same sick feeling I had gotten before descending the stairs. I blinked hard, staring at my white hand on the rusted steel, but I could not make it turn.

I was aware of Ned's intent gaze, like a small boy with a magnifying glass and an anthill. This feeling had never lied to me before…bad things always happened. There was something bad on the other side of this door.

"What's the matter, Marie?" Ned asked, and I could hear the sneer in his words. "You look like a deer in headlights…hehe, pardon the cliché."

I forced myself to look at Ned and the sick feeling swam up to my breastbone, wriggling like an eel caught in a net. The floodlight flickered with a faint buzz. The feeling never lied.

"You never answered me," I said, voice hollow. "What are you so happy about, Edward Crowes?"

There was only silence as he glared at me in the semi-darkness. Was he shocked that I knew his given name? I was.

"What did you do?"

Ned spat and flicked his cigarette nub into the parking lot. "You better hurry inside, Marie. You really don't want to be late."

I continued to look at him for a minute before I turned the knob. It was still cold, never having warmed up to my body's heat. Was it a bad sign? I should have taken it as one.

I only took one step into the wonderfully bright interior, before there was a loud_ clack!_ and I was plunged into darkness. There was time for a single gasp before I felt the door jerked away from my grip and Ned growled, "Goodbye, Marie."

The door slammed loudly, and I was alone in the darkness. Complete darkness that felt touchable. For a moment, I stood there, panicked and frozen. Then, I blinked. Was that a sound? The quiet step of soft sole on smooth concrete? I fought not to swallow too loudly, but my throat and mouth were now bone dry.

Was this some kind of joke? If it was, it wasn't a funny one. I was completely terrified. I wanted to turn around and bang on the door, rattle it. But that would break the rules. _Don't make a sound. _

Had I heard the lock? Was it locked? Very slowly, silently, I slipped off my heels so that they wouldn't clack. I tried to not even breath. My lungs burned with the need for air, but I only let in the softest, shallowest breaths. I edged one foot back; maybe an inch, and my ears were straining for even the slightest sound. Another inch. There was no sound…but I was not alone. I could _feel it_—

"Where are you going?" the chuckle was as loud as thunder in the static black. It was right behind me. I froze; not even my heart beat for that instant. My nerves were on hyper-alert so that when I was grabbed, it sent jolts of electricity down my petrified spine. A strangled, half scream escaped me, before I silenced it.

My heart was now hammering so fast I could hardly hear around the blood rushing in my ears. Through the confusion of adrenaline, my jittery mind barely made out that someone was crushing me in his arms, my back pressing into a lean chest. Hard ribs pressed sharply against my shoulder blades and an arm constricted against my diaphragm. I couldn't take a breath.

Hot breath scalded against my ear as fingers twisted viciously in my hair. Pain made tears squeeze from the corners of my eyes. That voice was like sizzling coals, so different from the soft brush of lips on my ear. That light touch made the words even crueler.

"Not even a scream for me? Has someone already broken my new toy?" More tears fell. I wanted to sob and scream, but I couldn't get enough air to even breathe. "No fair. I'll have to teach you different…won't I?"

With another vicious tug at my hair, he pulled my head to the side. There was pain, so much pain it was hard to distinguish where it began and where it ended. I was only aware, at some point when I knew I was going to pass out or die, that I had finally found the monster of my nightmares.


	3. Chapter 3: His Majesty's Dog

Chapter Three: His Majesty's Dog

**Chapter Three: His Majesty's Dog**

My head was pounding. That was the first thing I was aware of. The second thing was a toss up between the cold hard surface I was laying on, and the sickening stench that laced the air. I couldn't tell if it was the cause of my rolling stomach, or only making it worse.

I blinked experimentally and tried to swallow around my dry tongue. It felt old and withered in my mouth. Suddenly, I would have given anything for a sip of water. My stomach quivered ominously and I had only a second's warning before I twitched upwards and gagged. It felt as if my body was trying to get rid of anything I had ever eaten, but only succeeded in producing a thin string of bile.

When all the retching was done I collapsed back, exhausted and aching everywhere from lying on cold stone. I panted and shivered, taking in the surroundings in a detached sort of way. Some kind of alarm was going off in my head, but it was ignored. This place was strange to me. It was a huge room…massive really. The opposite wall was so far away that I had to squint to make out the design on gigantic double doors. An elephant could have passed through them. I blinked and squinted some more—were those wolves eating men? Another wave of nausea rolled over me and I looked away.

The flickering light had made them seem alive.

I made a mental note that medieval looking torches lighted the room. Where was I? What kind of place didn't use electricity? Even my cheap apartment complex had that. I shivered and sat up, having to grasp at the great stone slab beside me for support. After the world stopped spinning, I noticed that it wasn't a slab, it was…what? A throne? The velvet cushions inside it looked heavenly, but I didn't have the strength to crawl up to them.

Another wave of dizziness and nausea passed over me as I sat there panting and shivering. Why did I feel so weak? Why did my head feel like it was about to spin off into the ceiling? I closed my eyes trying to remember, but my thoughts were skittish things, like fish in a stream. I was too tired to try and catch them…and some of those fish had teeth…

Teeth.

The word resounded in my head, like a vicious whisper echoing on the wind. My throat gave a brutal throb and a gingerly touched the pulsing ache. Sore flesh protested beneath my fingers, covered in dry, crusted flakes. I pulled my fingers forward, rubbing the dark matter between my fingers. When I touched my neck again, it stung freshly and hot wet blood ran over my fingertips. It hurt.

"Oh," I breathed, staring at the dark stain as a sense of recognition overwhelmed me.

I touched my arm over the thin, spidery scar on my forearm.

I remembered sitting in a chair, cold hard wood beneath my bare thighs.

"Do you know what pain is?" he asked. I knew it was a he, but my sight was blurry, as if I was seeing everything through a veil.

"No," I answered, simply.

I saw his mouth flash, showing me crooked, and yellowed teeth.

"It's time to learn, pet," he said, lifting something else that flashed in the light. I remembered thinking that it shown beautifully, so much better than his rotting grin—before it sliced into my skin.

I was too shocked to scream, to make a sound. With a will of their own, my fingers touched the welling blood, and I flinched as the cut gave another throb.

"Oh," I whispered, rubbing the hot substance between my fingers. "It…hurts."

He grinned.

"Does it, pet? Are you sure? Let's be certain shall we?"

"No!" I hissed in the present, holding my arms tightly around myself. Then my eyes flew wide. The room reverberated with my half-scream. Anyone or anything could hear. I shivered in fear as a waited, sensing too much space around me. I tried to look everywhere at once, as the shadows loomed and flickered, like they were reaching for me.

I'd broken the rule and I waited with bated breath.

For moments, for hours I remained in silence, not daring to even blink. My legs were numb as I clutched them from the cold. The iron manacle around my ankle sent chills to my bones and seemed to grow heavier with every beat of my heart.

I was alone, but for the shadows. It was silent except for the blood rushing through my ears. I could feel nothing but the icy air and goose pimples on my bare skin.

I wanted to scream, but I knew they would come for me; whatever it was that brought me here. But still I longed for it, the end to all of the horrible waiting and the cold pit of dread in my stomach. But I feared how it would end. Images of the vagrant's carcass, torn to shreds, devoured…gnawed on.

The thought of being eaten alive stilled my throat.

Time seemed meaningless as I slowly slumped from my crouch. I lay curled in on myself at the side of the thrown. One of the torches flickered and sputtered. It went out. My breath caught as the gloom deepened and the shadows grew hungrier. I saw things in them that I could never describe. I heard things in them, slithering, whispering, and giggling. I felt them brush my skin and I would flinch as the silent tears rand down my face.

"It's not real," I mouthed. It was just another nightmare. I would wake up and it would be gone. I wouldn't remember. It would be over. I ached for it to be over.

"Please," I finally whispered to the dark.

I shouldn't have been surprised when I got an answer.

"Please, what?"

I blinked and half smiled. Who knew shadows spoke with such a smart accent? Would I die grinning over something so ridiculous?

"Really, darling, you should be more specific, or you'll be up to your pretty ass in horny toads that should be handsome princes."

A huff escaped, fighting to be a chuckle before I smothered it.

"That's free advice, by the way. And when someone such as me gives you free advice you should listen. I won't even bother to tell you my usual fee." The shadows said, somewhere above me. Theatrically it dropped its tone and whispered, "It's deadly."

I shivered and finally rolled my eyes up. Instead of shadows there was a boy, perching precariously on the arm of the throne. I blinked at the gold curls and glittering blue eyes. The smirk he shot me was nothing short of wicked; it looked odd on such a face…what was the word to describe it?

Innocent?

No. He looked like a pervert.

Angelic? Maybe. A dirty smutty angel if there ever was one.

As if he heard my thoughts, he winked.

I looked him up and down. His clothes looked soft, velvet maybe. Black and deep ocher with gold trim. Funny little pointed shoes. There was a hat clutched in his hand.

"Are you a clown? Is that why you're telling jokes?" I croaked tiredly. From the corners of my eyes I could still see those squirming shapes in the dark, but they were farther away. They stayed away from him. I didn't care the reason why, I could finally breathe.

His odd grin spread wider.

"What a funny girl, you are. Of all the questions you could have asked, you chose that. What a waste. You only get so many freebies you know."

I just watched him.

It was fascinating the way his hair reflected the light. The way his eyes glittered. The lilt of his voice. Even while the raspy tones seemed odd coming from his rosebud mouth, it was comforting. I didn't know why. Should I have asked him? Maybe…but I wouldn't want to waste a question. That seemed important. He said it was…I was so tired.

"For your information, you nosy little brat, I was at a party and I was a "**jestor"** not a clown—and nobody found it funny," his chuckle sent shivers down my abused nerves. "Not after the entertainment I had planned. I bet **his majesty** will think twice before insisting I come to his birthday next year."

"Why are you here?"—with me.

"Really? Another one so soon? Tsk-tsk. Save a few for later why don't you?"

My eyes were so heavy I couldn't keep them open anymore. My whole body was relaxed. The rough stone felt like a dream, even though my body was bruised. Was he doing this to me?

"Well, everyone is curious about the new pet, especially after the last one broke so easily. And I'm afraid when I get curious, I just can't help myself…and heaven help anyone who gets in my way," he seemed to find the last bit particularly funny and snickered at his own inside joke. "So, funny girl, who are you?"

"Who am I?" I repeated dully.

I could feel his grin even at the cusp of dreams.

"You're His Majesty's Dog."


	4. Chapter 4: Awake

Chapter Four: Awakening

**Chapter Four: Awakening**

I was hoping, with all of my heart, that when I woke up it would have all been a dream, that I would be safe and snuggly in my bed with the afternoon sun shining down on me. Instead, I felt only the cold chill of stone and the feeble light of torches. I sat up and shivered as goose pimples spread all over my bared flesh.

However uncomfortable my body was, my mind was a little clearer. I felt that I had been on the edge of something before I fell asleep, some deep pit of nothingness that would have sucked me into an eternity of my nightmares. The danger was still there, with every movement in the dark, but it was more distant, as if some invisible wall separated the phantoms and me.

As I shifted my position, the chain around my ankle rattled. I touched the cold metal, lifting it, feeling the weight between my palms. I could barely fit my fingers around the wide links. Whoever had put me here had no intention of letting me get away, but what was this place?

I was pretty sure it was underground from the simple fact that there were no windows, but also there was the feeling of weight above me.

Maybe…a basement?

My heart started trip like a hammer.

Horror movies taught me several things, one of which was being chained, naked, and/or in a basement was never something good. But who would build…a what? A throne room?...in their basement.

The boy, had he been a dream or real, had mentioned "his majesty". Was he my keeper?

I didn't want to find out.

I tugged at the chain, I pulled and yanked until my fingers and palms were raw, not to mention the ragged skin on my ankle. I shouldn't have bothered. Nothing had changed except for my stinging nerves.

"Right, right," I panted, sitting down again. "That's the point."

I tried to find any weaknesses in the lock or the ring it was attached to on the floor. All was in perfect working order.

"Come on," I hissed under my breath, starting to sweat. My invisible wall was starting to shrink and the shadows loomed closer. "Give a girl a break."

"My, my, little bird, what are you doing?"

I froze as a voice like bitter chocolate sunk into me. It was strong and sweet, but so intense it took my breath away.

Behind me there was a presence that had not been there a moment before, and it flooded the air with its force, so much that it made the skin prickle down my spine. Without looking I could feel it move closer, the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck quivered with tension.

"You're not trying to fly away are you?"

Hot breath against my ear, soft words with a menacing air. My soul quaked.

The situation was too familiar.

Palms spread down my arms in a disturbing caress. Hot lips grazed my ear, like scalding silk, "Won't you scream for me, little bird?"

My heart was in my throat, thudding, pounding, cutting off the air I so desperately needed.

I waited for the strike that would send me into an oblivion of pain. And I waited some more as that breath seared across my cheek. Was he expecting me to answer? He'd be disappointed. I couldn't think let alone speak.

I flinched as arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a scorching embrace that cloth did little to suppress.

"What a fascinating thing you are," the voice said, rumbling through me from a hard chest. It violated me, touching places that I had never seen. "Always silent…doesn't my little bird know how to sing?"

I had a morbid curiosity to see who it was that had caught me. My terror, however, made me still. If I didn't see it, acknowledge it, then it wasn't real. That was its logic. I knew it was far too late for that.

I wondered how long it would take for my heart to beat its way out of my chest.

As if he heard my thoughts, the monster of a man chuckled, sending those invasive vibrations all the way through me.

He lifted one of my arms and pressed me closer so I would know there was no escape. As he stretched his face closer to my palm, as if inspecting the lines he found there, I had to close my eyes. I couldn't watch whatever sick games he wanted to play. I was waiting for my pain to begin.

"You have beautiful wrists, so slender…and pale. I can see all of your veins…" His thumb caressed the flesh there, lovingly, infatuated with the blue and violet lines.

A second later the touch was replaced with something different. A burning mouth pressed against my wrist as the arm around my waist clutched me impossibly closer. Blistering wet heat met my skin as his tongue darted out and tasted my flesh. My breath caught, but I couldn't make a sound.

"So delicious, even without breaking the skin," he sighed, pressing another kiss to the spot. A thrill of fear ran through my chest and hurdled to my stomach, where it stayed, quivering.

Without breaking the skin? My neck gave a dull throb, reminding me of how I came to be there, of what was about to come.

I couldn't stop myself; my eyes flew open and stared.

His face was so close, and so enraptured. He grazed his teeth against the moist spot he had made. As if I too was enthralled, I could do nothing but watch perfect, blushing lips caress the tiny scratch his teeth had made.

The brief impression of strait black brows, a refined nose and sculpted features seared themselves into my brain before I had to turn away again.

How could something so perfect, so beautiful, be feeding at my wrist like a beast?

It gave my heart a jolt when I noticed that it was no longer scorching kisses that burned my wrist, but the searing pain of his teeth tearing into my skin.

I gasped as he sucked at the wound, lapping up the blood, all the while gripping me tighter and tighter against him, as if he would never let go. With every swallow he seemed to grow hotter, like an oven increasing temperature.

Nothing separated my naked body from him, and I could feel every line of bone, every taught muscle, even the wrinkles in his shirt.

His free hand kneaded my chest as he pressed closer, growing excited. And I felt something quiver inside me as my heart thudded a little harder and heat rushed across my flesh to meet him.

It was too much. I couldn't take any more, or…or…

I didn't want, no, I could not think of what should come after that thought.

I tried to tear myself away, scratching and biting; afraid of the way my body was betraying me. He growled, snarling tearing my delicate skin with his fangs. I saw them, red with my blood, dripping with thick, crimson saliva.

It was smeared across his chin, down his throat, marring the perfect white of his shirt. His eyes were black, glinting at me as his beautiful mask fell away to something dark and feral.

No pretty words fell from those stained lips, just guttural growls that shook my soul.

How dare I fight him? How dare I try to get away, when I was nothing to this beast? He could crush me like a moth between his fingers. His eyes said it all, black chips of eyes that they were.

He wanted to kill me. He was going to kill me, for my impertinence.

I wasn't going to die. The realization was crystal clear to me at that time.

I had lived my life in fear of this moment, but I wasn't going to sit there and let it all end. There were things I wanted to do still. I wasn't going to give up with so little to show for my time spent here. I wanted more than just surviving day to day, I wanted to live.

He curled his fingers around my neck, crushing my throat as he tried to squeeze the life out of me.

There was no time to gasp; I could feel how impossible it would be to struggle against such a grip.

Instinct took over and before I had time to think I was already moving. There was a fire inside that said it was the end, there was nothing left to lose. I had to give my everything to this one moment because it was all that mattered.

I went straight for those black eyes that were telling me to die. I fought and scratched until I pressed my thumb into one of the warm, soft, orbs. He roared in rage and pain as it burst, hot liquid streaming over my fingers. He flung me away and I hit the ground hard, the chain jerking me to a sudden halt and nearly ripping my hip out of the socket.

For a second, I just lay there, panting, waiting for him to come again. The adrenaline was jolting through my veins and every muscle twitched, ready for action. But he didn't come again.

A strange noise was erupting from the other side of the room, where he sat.

I glanced over my shoulder, trembling from the angle my body was put in, but not daring to move otherwise.

He was laughing, barking. Perfect white teeth and a beautiful smile on his face, while he held up a hand to his eye. Scarlet blood leaked in thick lines between his fingers, running down his hand and into the cuff of his shirt.

Why was he laughing? It was certainly not what I had expected. But, he must be crazy—to drink blood, to abduct me…to build this place. He had to be insane.

"I knew you wouldn't be like the others," he choked out between bursts of violent laughter. Suddenly he sobered, and put his hand down. I blinked as my heart jumped to my mouth. He stared at me, levelly, with two perfect, unharmed eyes. "You didn't disappoint, did you, little bird?"

I swallowed, but didn't speak.

He smiled, and shifted forward as if we were having a normal conversation and the whole scene before hadn't just happened.

"The others made so much fuss, screaming and crying," his eyelids lowered and his smile deepened, turning his face cold and cruel. "Begging and pleading. But not you, little bird. Not a sound…it's almost disturbing, like you're some sort of doll." I shivered.

He flashed sharp teeth. "My doll."

I couldn't say anything. What was there to say? Could I argue? Not at the present, with the chain wrapped around my ankle and no way to escape. He ultimately had the upper hand…but I would find a way.

He leaned his cheek into his palm and gazed at me with a wistful smile. "I wonder how long it will take to break you. How long before those pretty little lips scream for me?" He sighed. "Sorry for us there is no time to find out now." He stood and let a grin cross his face. "But there's always later." More like a threat than a promise.

His black hair swept forward as he bent to retrieve something from the floor. I couldn't help but follow the graceful line it made from his brow to his jaw. My eyes followed his jaw to his neck, to his collarbone and the wide sweep of his shoulders. He was beautiful, even so insane; I couldn't take my eyes away. I wanted to cry at the face of it, because it was so tainted.

He made the blond boy look like a cherub, and if that was so, the man in front of me had to be Satan.

Something white slid between his hands, which I noticed were well made. Long, strong fingers with wide nails. They looked capable and caressed the fabric between them like it was precious.

"I had come to bring you this," he stroked the fabric and flicked his eyes to me. "But you're such a naughty thing, distracting me."

A few moments ago, my nakedness had been the least of my worries. Now I was acutely aware of how much I was revealing to the room, to him.

He strolled over to me, in purposeful stride, his eyes sliding over my body like candy.

When he stopped, his feet rested mere inches from my thigh. He paused there, before squatting down and putting a hot palm on my hip.

"As much as I love the sight of your sumptuous skin, I'm afraid it might make some of our audience loose control," his fingers tightened their grip, curling into my flesh. "I'm the only one to have what's mine, and there will be no accidents." I knew there would be bruises there. I wondered if they would have his fingerprints.

"Sit up," he ordered.

For a second, and only a second, I considered not doing what he asked, but then my common sense kicked in and joined my survival instincts. They told me to do it before I was too injured to fight back or escape, because there was violence in the air, even if it was cleverly disguised by flippant remarks.

"My, my, how well behaved we are, I'll have to give Mr. Crowes a bonus in his check this month. He has such a good eye," he chuckled as I felt my blood pressure rise. Crowes? Edward Crowes. Ned. Blood rushed to my cheeks and anger quickly followed it. If, no, when—when I got out of here, I was going to make that fat bastard pay. Red stained my thoughts and burned through my vision. It made my eyes sting with frustration. There was no where to vent the rage that was building up so quickly inside.

I jumped when a thumb brushed my lower lip. "What's going on in that head of yours, little bird?" His fingers caressed the blush on my cheek. "I can't have you making a face like that. Tsk-tsk."

I stared at him. The crazy man who sucked my blood and who may or may not have grown back an eye. The man that disgusting waste of space had thrown me to. He didn't say a word as the silence stretched. He only stared back…and I realized that his eyes weren't black.

His pupils must have been dilated before. Now I could see a thin ring of…blue? Gray? I couldn't tell. The iris was colorless.

He leaned forward, the little smile he had been wearing growing wider, just enough to reveal a flash of white. My heart quaked. With that face…

"I think you're my new favorite," he whispered, all wide eyes and innocent smiles. But his voice, it made the lump in my throat bigger and so much harder to swallow. I was afraid.


	5. Chapter 5: Sing

Chapter 5: Sing

The thin cotton he pulled over my head was not enough. The wrist I had temporarily forgotten was still bleeding, hot red lines of pain were slipping through my fingers as I held the fabric over it.

I glanced to my right, where he sat. The crazy man. My blood decorated his chin as he lazily trailed his fingers over one of the velvet cushions. I watched as his tongue darted out, touching the darkening stains.

My stomach quivered, sending a sickening jolt up to my throat. I fought the convulsion behind my tongue as bile burned there.

His lips twitched into a smile and those colorless eyes slid over to me. The food.

"That will never work, little bird," he drawled, flicking his gaze down to his handy work. The little smile he wore spread. Even in the dim light I could see the dark stains between his teeth. More of me.

"My saliva contains a natural anticoagulant," he rolled the words around in his mouth and let out a little laugh as if he found the syllables funny.

"Come here."

He flicked his fingers at me. Oh no. I didn't want to go over there. What would he do next? Slice me open? Wear my guts as jewelry? The leer in his gaze didn't make it hard to imagine.

But what would happen if I just stayed here? Wouldn't that just make him angry? Or would he find it amusing like fighting against him?

I took too long thinking.

I didn't even see him move.

Suddenly my arm was in his grip and I was face to face with him, half pulled over the arm of his throne.

"Don't upset me, little one," his grip tightened and a whimper of pain escaped me. There were crunching sounds coming from beneath his fingers, each one sending a wave of anguish through me.

"What did I tell you?"

Tears stung my eyes as his fingertips slid, almost tenderly up to my wrist. His other hand, unnoticed, had clutched at the back of my neck, tangling painfully in my hair. He tugged hard, his face only inches from mine.

"When I tell you to do something…" his fingers closed around my wrist. "You do it—*_snap*!_"

I screamed, hot sweat prickling over my body as my nerves burned with the fire. Pressure added on to the pain and I trembled, emitting sounds I didn't even know I had in me.

He was moving me, tucking me into his arms like a small child.

"There, there. I knew my little bird would sing," he chuckled. "Now you know," he said, pressing his lips into my hair. Then his voice dropped a scale and those awful fingers were digging into my flesh once more. "Never defy me."

I breathed, and nodded, not able to look at him. But that didn't satisfy.

"Look at me when you answer…Marie," he breathed it, my name. It was the first time he said it. And I looked at him.

His eyes were hooded and there was a flush to his cheeks. He had enjoyed hurting me. He would enjoy hurting me again. Maybe in more vulnerable places.

"Say it," he whispered, never blinking. My blood was cracking on his lips.

"I—" my voice broke. He waited. "I will not defy you," I finished.

For a long time he said nothing, his face immobile. Then he smiled. He did that a lot.

"You're very pretty, aren't you little bird?" he cupped my face, angling it towards the light. He ran his fingers down my cheek to the corner of my mouth…and stopped, staring. "Very pretty."

"Look at me, Marie."

I held my breath for the briefest instant, and then pushed my gaze upward. Very diligently I stared at a speck of blood under his right eye. I wondered how it had gotten there, so far away from the rest.

"No. Not there," he breathed.

He leaned in; so close I wanted to edge away. My eyelids slid down, so that I watched him from under my lashes.

I wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, to curl in a corner and lick my wounds, but I didn't get a chance before his mouth sealed over mine. I froze. Realizing that somewhere deep inside I had wondered what this would feel like.

It was hot, so hot. He was burning over me. I thought…weren't vampires supposed to be cold? He had to be just a man. But he snapped my wrist like a toothpick. He tore through my skin like tissue paper. He kissed like a demon.

I could taste my blood as he bore down over me, crushing me. There was pain. He was all about pain. My pain. His pleasure.

He was enjoying this. Devouring me. 

I couldn't breathe, but he just kept pressing closer. It was a bruising, biting kiss. My first kiss. The only one I could remember…it hurt.

_Bang!_

I jumped, as much as I could in his restrictive grip.

He stopped as if someone had flipped a switch. I was panting, but he—he wasn't breathing at all…


End file.
